


Here Today, Here Tomorrow

by theskywasblue



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Angst, Love/Hate, M/M, Plot What Plot, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-09
Updated: 2010-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-10 11:39:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanzo and Gojyo and the mess they're in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here Today, Here Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kispexi2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kispexi2/gifts).



> Originally written for the [Yuletide_smut](http://community.livejournal.com/yuletide_smut/) giftfic exchange 2008.

"I'm not Hakkai."

The words must have broken some spell that Gojyo hadn't realized he had been under, because suddenly he was aware of _everything_ in a way he hadn't been just seconds earlier -- the thin mattress and its rough cotton sheets scratching at the palms of his hands, the springs digging into his knees, the stretch and collapse of his lungs behind his ribs as he drew ragged, almost choking breaths, and Sanzo's hand fisted in his hair.

"Fuck," he ground out finally. He hadn't said anything to give himself away, he was _positive_, "I know that."

Hakkai wouldn't smell like cigarettes, for starters. But as Gojyo recalled, he wasn't supposed to be thinking about Hakkai, because apparently he did far too much "bitching and moaning" on the subject already.

_"Keep up the whining, why don't you? Then everyone will figure out how hopelessly in love you are."_

He wasn't though. He never had been in love with anyone. He didn't need to do anything to prove it either, but there he was anyway, on his hands and knees again, sweat and panting and -- gods -- so hard he was sure he was going to break. When he bowed his head he could see his own cock, thick, flushed and dripping onto the sheets. He wanted to touch it, but he didn't trust himself to hold his weight on one trembling arm. What he really wanted was for Sanzo to wrap his bitchy little mouth around it and suck it dry, but that wasn't going to happen and Gojyo knew it.

"Listen asshole," Gojyo let his legs slide further apart, trying to get low enough to rub at least the tip of his aching hard-on against the rumpled sheets. It never did feel like he was giving in as much as he thought it would when he went half crazy with wanting or even when he begged for it; after all, Sanzo wanted it just as bad. The way Gojyo saw it, Sanzo had started the whole damn thing. "If you call me 'monkey' this is all over."

"Go to hell kappa," Sanzo's blunt nails raked down Gojyo's side, making him hiss in a mixture of surprise and pain.

Gojyo managed a ragged laugh. The bastard could deny it all he wanted, but every time the chimp eyed up a pretty waitress -- with more on his mind than just whether or not her sun-tanned arms were strong enough to carry the dozens of crowded platters she was going to have to bring to their table -- Gojyo saw the vein in Sanzo's temple jump, his eyes narrow, his cheeks pink with indignation. The sort of things that he always wished he might see on Hakkai's face when he mentioned going out for the evening, or flirted with the girl behind the counter at the inn.

That was different, of course. He just wanted to see Hakkai _acknowledge_ for a split second that he was human -- alright, not strictly _human_ \- but that he had the same thoughts in his head that everyone else did; Gojyo didn't necessarily want to _do_ anything about it. Sure, he had a whole list of things floating around in his head that he _could_ do, but acknowledging them meant that he had to pay attention to the parts that didn't involve hard-ons and fluids, not just the ones that had him -- or Hakkai, sometimes, but so very, very often him -- on his knees and begging for it.

He wasn't going to beg for it this time, though. Just as he hadn't any of the other times. Truthfully, he didn't need to; Sanzo was more than willing to take what they both needed, rough, sharp fingers slick with the cheap lotion from the bathroom counter pushing hard and fast into Gojyo's body, opening him up faster than he thought he ever could be.

"If you ever mention Goku to me again," Sanzo's breath came hot on the side of Gojyo's neck, followed by sharp teeth on his earlobe; hard enough to draw blood, probably, because the pain lingered long after Sanzo pulled away. "I'll kill you, do you understand?"

"Like hell you will," Sanzo's fingers curled inside him and Gojyo felt a tremor run through his body, sharp pinpricks of pleasure-pain dancing up his spine and causing sparks to flash behind his eyelids when he blinked. One day he was going to ask how Sanzo and learned to hit that spot _just right_; it couldn't be part of a basic monastic education. "If you killed me, there wouldn't be anyone around willing to do this."

Three fingers plunged into him, hard, and Gojyo's back bowed sharply as he cried out, cock jerking and spitting precome on the sheets. It was better than he really wanted it to be and he rocked back onto Sanzo's fingers again and again.

"You think I'm only doing this because I can't find anything else, is that it?" Sanzo tugged his hair hard and panted against his neck like he was thinking of biting down on the pulse thundering beneath the skin there, maybe tearing out Gojyo's throat.

"Yeah," Gojyo's confirmation came out as a sob, "That's pretty much what I think."

"Well, that shows just how little you know," Sanzo laughed; the sound was surprisingly ragged, which gave Gojyo a sudden rush of obscene pride. Sanzo could sure as hell talk big, but when it came right down to it, who else would he find who would be willing to do this? Not Hakkai, sure as hell. If Hakkai wouldn't fuck him -- after Gojyo picking him up off the road, stuffing his guts back in and making sure he stayed alive; after three years of sleeping in his bed; after making Gojyo _care_ about something, someone beyond the tiny sphere of his own useless existence -- then there was no way Hakkai was going to bend over for Sanzo.

Or maybe he would. Gojyo couldn't really say for certain; Hakkai had a strange idea of things like loyalty and fair play. He also had one hell of a soft spot for being a martyr.

It wasn't about Hakkai though -- Gojyo knew that -- even for him. Hell, it wasn't even about Goku, who was probably still down in the restaurant with that pretty, freckle-faced waitress. He had a flare for that sort of thing suddenly, ever since Sanzo had reappeared; all the girls -- the young ones, who were all pretty in a backwater sort of way, sweet, but not delicate and maybe a little rough around the edges, with faces that had seen too much sun and hands calloused by hard work -- seemed to flock to Goku. And why not? The kid was still a little thick in the relationship department from time to time, but he was good looking enough and had that sweet and generous streak that girls really seemed to fall for. The difference was that for once he was returning the attention, when before he had been -- well, fixated for lack of a better word -- on everything Sanzo, like the pissy monk really was the center of his universe.

The mess they had gotten themselves into -- where every misplaced glance, every small argument, every moment of imperfection translated into a hard, fast fuck -- really had nothing to do with Hakkai and Goku at all.

Sanzo's sharp, powerful fingers dug into Gojyo's hips, probably leaving bruises, dark patches on either side that Gojyo knew he would spend hours staring at in the mirror the next day or the day after, measuring the gaps between each finger mark and trying to hate the way they stood out against his skin. The sharp pain met the low burn at the base of Gojyo's spine and swirled with the desperate ache in his groin, making him twist against the sheets and grind his teeth. Sanzo's motions were slow, deliberately agonizing -- the bastard always did like to make everything as difficult as possible -- he couldn't just settle for a nice, steady fuck.

Finally, choked by frustration, Gojyo fisted his hands in the sheets and rocked back against Sanzo as hard as he could. "Bastard just - _ah!_ \- just shut up and fuck me already, would ya?"

Sanzo thrust hard, and Gojyo saw _stars_. It was probably for the best that he didn't hear the noise that escaped his throat, but whatever it was, it made Sanzo laugh, though the sound was ragged and breathless enough that Goyo couldn't bring himself to be offended. All he really cared about was that the man's aim was dead-on fucking perfect, and if it kept up he was going to come. He rocked back into each of Sanzo's thrusts hard enough that the slap of skin on skin blocked out everything else, with his head tossed back and moaning on every exhaled breath. He was dimly aware of Sanzo telling him to _"Shut the fuck up_ right before his orgasm turned him into a shuddering, boneless wreck.

Sanzo just kept going, fucking him until it ached; finally coming with a low grunt, and a rush of hot fluid Gojyo could almost taste in the back of his throat.

The bed was a mess, but Gojyo stretched out on it anyway, catching his breath as the slow hum of pleasure worked its way through his body. Sanzo turned and sat with his back against the inn's poorly insulated outer wall, probably using the chill to help steady himself. Gojyo could hear the wet rasp of the other man's breathing along with his own.

"Pass me my smokes," Sanzo said finally, breaking the silence. Out of principle, Gojyo thought he should say something like _"get your own damn smokes, lazy-ass monk"_ but he had just been thinking of getting one for himself, so it wasn't like it was out of the way or anything. He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing Sanzo's pack and passing it blindly behind them before grabbing his own. He had to turn over on his side to light up and smoke properly, which made him aware of just how much of a mess he had made of himself. He did his best to ignore it; he wasn't quite up for a shower yet anyway. His heart hadn't even properly slowed down yet, but a good cigarette or two would help with that.

They smoked in silence for a while, which was the way it pretty much always was. When Gojyo finally did get up to have his shower, Sanzo would gather up his stuff, and by the time Gojyo was finished in the bathroom, Sanzo would be back in his own room, sleeping the rest of the night away.

Gojyo figured he would have to pull the sheets off the bed before he could properly sleep on the thing. Sometimes he wondered what the cleaning staff thought when the rooms were cleared out the morning after they hit the road. He almost felt bad for them, actually.

"So, how long, do you figure?"

He hadn't meant to say it out loud, really -- but with him, thinking one thing always led to another, and once the one wheel in his brain started turning, the stupidest shit came out of his mouth.

Sanzo grunted in response. Gojyo looked back over his shoulder to see him staring blankly at some indefinable spot on the far wall like it held the secrets of the universe.

"That's all your sage advice? Some monk you are."

"If you want advice, go visit a fucking fortune-teller."

That should have been the end of it. Gojyo turned his gaze away, watched the smoke from the end of his cigarette spiral through the cold gash of moonlight on the floor; but somehow, he wasn't happy with not having an answer.

"Look -- all I'm asking is how long you think it'll be before we get our shit together? It's a pretty simple question."

"_We_," Sanzo snorted dryly, "Don't have _shit_. There is no _we_."

Gojyo had a rather different opinion, considering he was the one with Sanzo's cock up his ass at least two times a week. It was a pretty fucked up _we_, true enough; but all the same, it was there whether Sanzo liked it or not.

"You know what I mean, man. All I want is a straight answer from you for once."

He felt Sanzo shift behind him, pushing away from the wall and off the bed. With a cigarette still dangling from the corner of his mouth, Sanzo pulled on his jeans and then stood, just stood, in the middle of the floor with his back to Gojyo, shoulders rising and falling ever-so-slightly with the motion of air in his lungs. He looked strange in the moonlight, all pale skin and sharp angles, like some kind of impressionist painting.

"Never," Sanzo said finally. There was regret in his voice, unmistakable to someone like Gojyo, who was so used to hearing the sound. "Because you're a fucking coward; and because I know better."

-End-


End file.
